Conspiracy theories in my shopping basket

People have problems. Serious problems. They begin with the best of intentions and somewhere along the way they lose the plot. 

Losing the plot is OK. I've lost it countless times myself. This blog is a testimony of having lost the plot repeatedly and thankfully having found it again. I have been delusional, I have been living in dreamland, I've been lost in fantasies because there are times reality honestly sucks. So I'm OK with losing the plot. We all do it from time to time. 

Do you know what's not, under any circumstances OK? Being so certain you know what's happening that you disregard any opinion different than your own. That's not OK. Why?

We live in a world of subjective reality. Reality can't be objective. Every person perceives reality in a different way. For example, some people can't perceive colour. Others are slightly, or completely deaf. Even those lucky female prodigies who can see a few million colours (I'm told they have a mutation of the X chromosome) can't see in infrared or beyond ultraviolet. Even those with superb hearing can't catch infrasounds, or ultrasounds. Just imagine how many colours we can't see, how many sounds we can't hear, how many energy variations we can't perceive. What we can perceive is in effect very little compared to what we can't.

Having said that, and that alone, it's self-explanatory we know fuck all about the world that surrounds us. Practically, we know shit. And that's fine as long as you're aware of it. The problem begins when someone is certain of something to the point of dogmatic bigotry. One would have thought that the fact we know shit about the world we live in would be insurance against such attitudes, but hell no. We behave as if we know everything and we can bet our lives on it. That's where the problem begins.

I steer clear of conspiracy theories because life tends to be more complex and weirder than even the wildest theories. I also despise New Age and feel disgust for those hacks who sell people a one-size-fits-all solution for 399.90 plus P&P. No, realigning your chakras will do nothing to improve your life, unless you get off your ass and DO something. Sorry to disappoint. There's no such thing as a free meal or painless self-improvement. However, being who I am and what I am, I've often had to tread the unhealthy territory of energy-related research. Well, conspiracy theorists lurk there like athlete's foot lurks in sweaty trainers, and I'm sorry to say, they stink twice as much.

I recently started a research in orgonites. Orgonites are a very real thing, because they have nothing to do with spirits, bizarre theories or one's ancestors. They transmute energy. They turn shitty energy into healthy energy and protect from electromagnetic pollution. So I started researching, reading, comparing. Found this guy who knows his orgonites. He makes and sells some amazing items. I was excited, because it seemed too good to be true. And it was. This guy (who's also vegan because meat is killing us and a smoker) is certain that the Reptilians are the ones responsible for people being gay. In addition to that, anyone who isn't Greek and white belongs to an evil conspiracy to turn the world population into a homogeneous soup of (gasp!) mixed races. (Son of a gun, this is some serious shit. I already feel my purely Greek genes and vagina shuddering in fear.) So we must stop the refugees from coming to our country (or going to any country in general) because they are, in reality, the hordes of evil incarnate and the servants of Reptilians.

Um, sorry, what?

Now, you go and buy his orgonites, keeping in mind they contain quartz crystals in them, and quartz crystals absorb information the same way a sponge absorbs water. Quartz can be programmed to keep and transmit information ad infinitum, and what's worse, the orgonite by its very nature re-enforces the transmitted information. So you have this guy who makes amazing orgonites, only to have them buzz like a beehive with his bias, hatred and paranoia. If I made the mistake of buying from him, I'd be sick within hours of receiving his creations, and you can't cleanse orgonites. The quartz crystals are deep inside the matrix of the construction, frozen inside the resin. You can't immerse them in water to cleanse them, you can't help them in any way. The only way to contain the damage is bury the orgonite, and they are fucking expensive to substitute them for carrots in your garden.

How do you say to such a person that for all their technical knowledge and ingenuity they've lost the plot? Answer: you don't. You don't because they will tell you you are a servant of Reptilians (or a person of alien DNA, or a soulless human, or whatever characterisation they give to anyone who challenges their fossilised life theory) and disregard you. Oh, and they will also tell you you aren't open-minded and your intelligence leaves a lot to be desired. Then they'll ride off into the sunset in pursuit of their 'holy' purpose. And damn, I don't even have red hair that I love so much in order to be a soulless human. ;) I have regular, boring brown hair, with shitloads of white in it. 

Do you know why it's OK I lost the plot, but it is not OK they did? Because even during my most self-involved phases, there was always a part of me that reminded me I could be wrong. And I heeded that part. I kept it in mind. It helped me not to take myself too seriously.

Here is a site with good orgonites:
https://www.etsy.com/shop/OrgoniteCreations/items 

PS. One more thing. Most species on this planet evolved into having two sexes. It was done to ensure constant renewal of the gene pool. It's simple biology. Well, some people like people of the same sex, or both sexes, or neither. Let's not turn our sexuality into a moral issue. They're just gonads, you know? Not mystical stuff, space conquest material, a cure for cancer, or an ingenious way to re-disperse wealth. I mean, for the love of fuck. Literally. Get over it.
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Black Books

My friend J. gave me to watch the old British sitcom Black Books. It's so funny it makes my knees rubbery. There are instances I have fallen off my chair and struggle to breathe between waves of laughter so painful that my stomach hurts. I have grown a six pack because of the damn series, and it's good, I guess, because there is no other way I'd ever grow a six pack. I am far more likely to grow tusks. 

I am window shopping inks for my beloved fountain pens since I came across this amazing site on how to take proper care of my babies. The majority of my writing nowadays is done on the PC, with the exception of my diary. Still nothing can replace the feeling of a fountain pen in my hand and the steady, velvety flow of ink on paper. There is absolutely no comparison with any electronic device.

It's scary and adorable how much the inside of the Black Books bookshop reminds me of my home. There is nothing resembling normal in my life, except for the fact I have a job and a house. The rest is pretty much random heaps of objects and cats, jumbled occurrences and an insane, if adorable, mom. It's OK, I don't really mind. That's how it is and there is no reason to worry about it. Things will take care of themselves, I guess, or they won't, and I'll have to take care of them. I'll cross that bridge when I get there. In the meantime, worrying is a waste of time. I have a very difficult December looming ahead, with very long work hours and a mob ahem... customers wanting to buy Christmas gifts and pralines. The fact the majority would love to lace those same pralines with poison to get rid of their relatives is not strictly relevant. ;) 

The human race is equipped with an amazing ability to go on living even after a nuclear disaster. Look at me, window shopping ink while I still can't figure out a valid reason we are inhabiting this poor, poor planet. There are nights the owner of Black Books is an avid humanitarian compared to me. Other nights, I want to take care of everyone. But still, here I am tonight looking at inks and wondering if lilac is a good colour choice and if it will still be readable in twenty years from now. As if there's any guarantee I'll still be here in twenty years from now. Heh. Humans.

Enjoy a new song by P'haan and Calliah while you're here. They are as good as pralines, maybe better. 

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After the elections

Today I wanted to write something that makes sense, but I found myself incapable of saying anything other than one syllable words like "shit", "fuck" and "fuck this shit". No, I don't want to analyse why electing the next Hitler of mankind and giving him access to nuclear codes is insane. I can't even begin to analyse why this misogynist, racist, disgusting man is a terrible blow to everything I hold sacred, to human rights and the evolution of human race. I wish I could send him and his voters to a planet in another solar system and leave them there, to let us the rest of us live in peace AWAY from them. But as I said, I won't analyse. May whatever Higher Power exists, if something exists, have mercy on us all. End of analysis. I'll drink my tea now. Soothes the nerves.

A few days ago I was on Ymittos at night, the mount near my home. It was awesome, because the cloudy sky provided plenty of illumination and I had good company. The best bits were the total absence of artificial light and the wind in the trees. The forest speaks in sounds unlike human languages, in rustlings, shakings and creakings, in the soft sound of leaf kissing leaf. Forests at night are another world; different rules, no human presence, no-one to help you except for your wits and common sense. Words can't communicate the beauty of the night outdoors, the sensation you aren't alone, the irrational certainty that tree somehow got closer since the last time you looked at it.

When I am in a forest, I speak to it and explain I mean no harm, but there are things in such places that mean you harm regardless of your intentions. Nature isn't your mother. Nature is the Queen Bitch of all bitches, and you should treat her like a tigress that can pop out claws and rip you apart any time she feels like it. God(s) know we deserve it for what we've done to the planet.

I love the night, I love the forest. But at the same time I'm smart enough to respect and fear it. In the forest of my mind, alongside wonders I host monsters, and what is inside will inevitably be met outside.

Which reminds me. A few weeks ago I was returning home on foot. It was late at night, and I chanced upon the carcass of a ginger tom-cat on the pavement. Judging by the blood in his mouth, he had been run over by a car. But someone had also burned his cheek and his fur at parts, which made me sick. I do hope that person did that to the carcass, and not before; I think that was the case. 

I picked the poor fellow up and put him in a garbage bin. I had to empty a bag of garbage and use it to pick him up, but I felt it was the right thing to do, to somehow undo the damage done to him and offer him the respect he was denied. Who would do such a thing? Why would anyone do that? And how long before that person does the same to a living cat? I don't want to consider these questions. It makes no difference, and I did my part.

We live in a very fucked up world that's light years away from making sense, let alone from perfection. That's why we have to hold onto those things and people who make us feel happy and whole, imperfect as they may be.

Take good care of yourselves and be careful.

Over and out. 

Decision time (with lots of f*cks)

I have a brain like an artichoke right now, so maybe writing a blog post is not a good idea. But to hell with it. I have made up my mind about stuff. Here are my decisions.

One, I won't spend any more time thinking  about the fuckwads who have been nasty or mean to me. It's pointless and it makes me angry. Anger is something I have so much of I can open an export company, or give my surplus to those in need. So, no more thinking about those that used to be friends, lovers, penpals, whatever the fuckity fuck ever. It's over. It's dead. It belongs to the past. *middle finger raised in solemn salutation* Good riddance to bad luck.

Two, I won't spend any more time thinking about where I am supposed to be versus to where I am now. It makes me depressed and I honestly can't deal with it. Plus it is as pointless as #1. I can't do anything about it. Maybe I don't care enough, maybe I am not trying enough, maybe this reality is a rigged simulation run by a type IV Kardashev scale civilisation and no matter how much I try, it doesn't and won't respond to my efforts. In any case, no can do, and that's that.

It is indeed. But I don't have the cure for others. I can only help myself.

Three, I can't spend a second more worrying about the fate of humanity, the situation of the world, the pollution, poverty, human trafficking, war, violence against women and so on. I refuse to give more time and energy to that gigantic clusterfuck of monstrosities. I didn't create those situations and consequently I can't solve them and refuse to dwell on them. The injustice of the situation makes me sick with rage. It makes me yell at the heavens at unorthodox hours when everyone is sleeping, and takes away the joy of living. So I will put my efforts in what I can do, however pitifully small that may be, and sign petitions, and feed my stray cats and take care of my friends. The rest, no way Jose. I can't, and it is not my responsibility. 

Four, I will follow the advice of a dear friend. Stand your ground, stick to your own. I know who "my own" are. They are there for me. They may not have solutions to my problems, but they are happy to discuss books, movies, series and every day life with me. They call, they write, they make me laugh, they listen. This is more than most people have and I don't take it for granted.

Five, I will floss more often. 

There. That's it. Now, here is something pretty with burnt orange eyes. You are welcome.

Michael Tintiuc. Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/BIvlXOChVLp/ 
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Acquire superpowers! Discover amazing music! Get your balls busted with useless advice!

There is only one superpower in this world, and it is not what you think. It is not flying, reading minds or knowing which stocks to buy. It's something simple: the ability to change. I've said that countless times in the past (my friends are probably sick of hearing it), and I'm saying it again now. If you can change, then you've got a superpower few others possess. People don't change; only falling in love and expecting to die can make them behave differently. If you can change without the help of these two situations, then you've got a near-magical ability. There is nothing you can't do, nothing you can't achieve.

I'm tired and dispirited. I don't want to get off the chair. My butt is conveniently grafted on it, and the inside of my head feels full of pickled seaweed. This is why I'll get off the chair, go upstairs to the rooftop and exercise. I need to change my priorities if I want to see a positive result and no-one else can do it for me. I can't become the living impersonation of the protagonist of Assassin't Creed, but I can certainly make my episcopal tummy diminish. By "episcopal" I mean the kind of tummy that rosy-cheeked fat heads of church use it to rest their entwined fingers while they give advice. Well, here's my advice. Change your priorities. Put yourself and your own well-being first. If you can do that... you're well on your way, and you have my deepest respect. If not, well, give it a try just to see what happens. Or not. I am not here to change you.

For the musical part, I am honoured to know personally Cally, the exceptional singer of both videos. She has a voice than can only be characterised as haunting. If you like them (and only being deaf can be a justifiable reason you don't!) then go and like their Facebook page, subscribe to their Channel, and share their videos. If you don't do that, I shall call upon my episcopal tummy to smother you. It will not be pretty.

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Excellent articles for your hungry brains

I am going to publish the links of some excellent articles I've come across in the past months. They have helped me think or put in words what I know it's true, but can't really express it. Read as many as you like. They are all very good.

These two focus on the latest plague of the internet, people's "opinion". For some reason, a part of the population considers their opinion to be something equal to Holy Truth, and they get angry when others point out that just because they are entitled to an opinion, doesn't mean they are right.

http://www.houstonpress.com/arts/no-it-s-not-your-opinion-you-re-just-wrong-updated-7611752

http://thefederalist.com/2014/01/17/the-death-of-expertise/

Or, to put it in another way:

Next thorny subject: self-improvement. Nope, a six-pack will not make you magically attractive to your preferred sex. Read why. 

http://www.doctornerdlove.com/2015/04/no-more-magic-feathers-the-secret-to-finding-real-self-improvement/

And one more for the ages: Passion, finding your passion, and what to do with your life.

http://markmanson.net/passion 

Enjoy.

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Random acts of vileness

This is not directly related to the post, but it's very nice. It's my random act of kindness for today. You are welcome. XD Source: https://www.facebook.com/MichaelStokesPhoto/

I have an observation to make, as well as a request. Don't be nasty. When you do something bad, the misery you create spreads in waves and finally finds its way back to you. How does this work? Let me give you my thoughts.

As you have guessed, a friend of mine passed away a little more than two years ago. She was very dear to me. A few months before she was gone, she posted me a birthday present. I have no idea what that present was. You see, she posted it from Japan and although she sent it by registered mail, her gift never arrived. It turns out that the tracking system for the packet worked only inside Japan and someone stole it. Since this was the last present she ever sent to me, I wish I had received it. Not for any other reason but for its sentimental value. In any case, someone interfered and I never got it. That someone obviously didn't know that this gift was important to me, and didn't care about the consequences of stealing it. He or she didn't think it was something, but to me it was.

Now you are going to tell me, how does this affect other people? Whether we like it or not, we are interconnected. We exist within a very complex web of social interactions. Every time someone behaves like an arse, this affects a lot more than just the person who becomes the receiver of that behaviour. What, seems exaggerated? It's not.

Let's say you have a fight with someone. You go home enraged and take it out on your significant other. They get out of the house with their panties in a bunch and without meaning to, they run over a cat. The cat owner isn't going to be a happy chap, and I don't even want to refer to the poor cat. So misery spreads like sticky smog and affects a lot of lives, because whether we like it or not, we are connected. Even small and seemingly unimportant acts of anger, greed or malice can have major consequences for you or someone else. I don't believe in heaven or hell, but sometimes a single act of ill will or irresponsibility can turn a person's world upside down. For this reason alone, humans need to be careful. And though it may be hard to believe, happiness spreads in a similar way, through the same social web. 

I am giving by nature so I don't need anyone to tell me how that works. However, let me elaborate for you. Do you remember when you went for coffee and the waitress was extra polite and nice? Or when a random stranger stopped and helped you with your car trouble? Or when a co-worker complimented you on your new dress? Do remember how good it felt to be at the receiving end of such behaviour and how it improved your mood for hours afterwards, making you smile and making you nicer, too? That's the way happiness spreads, and unlike misery, it is unlikely to cause damage to someone or cost a person's life. 

Do something nice and don't do it because you expect something in return. It affects a lot of lives, more than you can imagine. This is a small world, and what goes around comes around. It may come in a different form, but it does. You don't have to save the world from hunger. All you need to do is buy a sandwich for the homeless guy in your neighbourhood, or throw your remaining crumbs to the pigeons. Don't think big. Small is more than enough. Small and immediate is fine. And if you don't want to do that, at least don't step on other people's toes. That, too, is plenty. 
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Inner dialogue: an exercise in repetition.

This is what discussing with myself feels like. Source: http://duncantje.deviantart.com/art/Tea-for-two-371640506

I am learning to put up with people with some measure of success. I am re-learning to see them as humans, actually. Attempting to feel compassion. I need to do something about my constant anger. My motivating forces are anger and desire, and anger I can do without. So I am trying to see what can be done about it. 

My mind is constantly busy, more often than not going in circles around the same subjects. That's why I don't trust my thinking progress very much. I can give you an example of my inner dialogue.

Myself: I wonder if she is OK. I have called her and emailed her repeatedly and she does not answer. Then again, she never picked up her phone, so that comes as no surprise. I hope she is OK. Maybe she is mad at me. I didn't do something for her to be mad. Still I worry about her. 

Me: She chose her path a long time ago and there is nothing you can do about it. 

Myself: I don't want her to change path, but it would be nice to know she is OK. It would be even nicer to be able to communicate with those I have a good time with more often. 

Me: Stop this. You know she is not there anymore. She never was.

Myself: Why people can't understand how important it is to be human by doing simple, every day things like picking up the phone, laughing at a shared joke, discuss. 

Me: Because people are who they are and you are not here to change them. It's important enough to understand these concepts yourself and change. 

Myself: Yes, but if I have no-one to share my insights and discoveries with, what is the purpose of such a discovery? 

Me: It's not your responsibility that humans end up in a deathbed full of regrets. Stop bothering with what you can't change and isn't your cross to carry.

Myself: I wish I could make them understand. 

Me: You can understand and that's enough. 

Myself: I am tired of my loneliness. 

Me: You should be grateful you have the friends you do. 

Myself: I am grateful. I don't take anything for granted. I wonder why those who take nothing for granted are the underdogs of society. 

Me: Maybe because the reason they take nothing for granted has to do with who they are in society to begin with, and the hardship they've already been through. 

Myself: Hardship is no guarantee of a grateful person. 

Me: Nor is lack of hardship guarantee of a callous one. 

Myself: There is great callousness in ignoring whole parts of yourself because you can't deal with the pain. It is the same with that other person too, who was so close to me to grow up into a fussy, perpetually sour individual, who is looking for mistakes like there is a reward for them. She left behind everything she held near and dear because she could not deal with the pain and she secretly blames me for not giving up like she did. 

Me: Hey, are you back into the 'I wonder why people don't understand' mode? Stop this. Don't you have anything better to think about? 

Myself: I can always consider the possibility of my heroine ending with two alpha males instead of one. 

Me: Well, that sounds better than the previous line of thought. 

Myself: But you don't understand, I know and feel all those facts about others and I can't tell them! I am bursting at the seams with the things I want to shout at their faces and I can't. I can't because if I do, they won't listen. Even worse, they will deny everything and tell me I am crazy and I am making it up and I am a mean person and I don't understand shit! 

Me: So? You know what you know, it's not your responsibility to enlighten anyone else. Concentrate. Think of something else. The alpha male duo with the heroine sounds good. 

Myself: Yes, it does. 

Me: That's my girl.

See what I mean? Going around in circles trying in vain to understand why humans are being humans, and the other voice of myself trying to switch my attention to something else and stop me from considering those relationships and situations I can't change or understand. Thankfully she is persuasive.

Other than that, I have a better job now. I am no longer at the supermarket and feel great about it. Although I can't change or enlighten anyone, I can at least smile because I escaped. 

I am off to bed. That should be considered an escape too. My brain is melting from lack of enough sleep. I am afraid that if I blow my nose, I'll accidentally give myself a full lobotomy. Maybe that would be an improvement.
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Swimming

It was the word I used to describe my current job situation to a friend. It reminds me of a person who fell overboard and no-one noticed. In my case, the entire country was pushed overboard. I've found myself in the middle of the ocean, swimming towards God/dess knows where. I keep swimming in the hope someone will discover and save me, as in 'hire me'. I can't reach the coast, so I'm trying to keep my head above water and my wits about me. I have no guarantee someone will indeed come to my rescue and the ocean is a very big place. I can't get out, I don't know for how long I'll manage to keep swimming and I can't give up, either. Months pass by, the unpaid bills get more, the money we have to borrow to make sure there is food on the table keeps getting more and we can't pay it back. It's fun! If your idea of fun is pinching pennies and counting days until the end of the month when my mother's pension comes in, it's great fun. I keep sending CVs, no-one bothers to answer and life goes on. I keep swimming in the hope something will appear. I have no other choice.

Recently a friend told me I need to change attitude and be more flexible and positive. Maybe they are right. Maybe I indeed need to be more positive. I try, but my mother's pension lasts for ten days, and afterwards we live on credit, charity, bottles I collect and borrowed money. So perhaps offering advice while their current situation is radically different than mine is a moot point. As for flexibility, I exercise two to three times a week in the hope of acquiring a super sexy tummy, but haven't seen any results yet. My neck is as stiff as always, things moan and groan in my body and my tummy remains rather rude. There are days I feel like an old ship that's three months pregnant; bloated at parts and creaky all over. :D

You know what the funny thing is? I don't need pity or sympathy. I am not sick. This isn't a goddamn funeral. I need a job, and to retain a certain level-headedness despite my stress and the friction with my mother. Find what makes me push on, chat about something inconsequential, eat some ice-cream. That's what I really need. I would also be quite happy if my mother stopped using my nerves as a trampoline. When I am alone in the house, I don't get stressed. I am so blissful I could be on drugs. I do what I can with what I have. When she is in the house with me, she relieves her stress by snapping at me and reciting long-winded monologues of doom and gloom. She adds her worry to my own. It doesn't help. I try to ignore her, keeping in mind she can't help it. This is how she is, and she's not going to change now, a breath away from her seventies. But I can't help it either, she gets me low, angry and stressed.

Then I came across this lovely video and it made me smile. Maybe it will make you smile too. 

By the way, the first season of Daredevil was excellent! I am in love with Deborah Ann Woll. Have been in love with her since True Blood. That girl shines from the inside. She enters a room and everything changes by her luminescence, by the white of her skin and the way it glows, by her smile. She's indescribable. I kept spitting on my laptop screen to avoid accidentally giving her any negative vibes (what Greeks call the evil eye). 

Aaaaand off we go to hit 50.000 views for this humble blog. :) Go me, and thank you. 
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Small things make me happy

 

"There is a fundamental reason why we look at the sky with wonder and longing—for the same reason that we stand, hour after hour, gazing at the distant swell of the open ocean. There is something like an ancient wisdom, encoded and tucked away in our DNA, that knows its point of origin as surely as a salmon knows its creek. Intellectually, we may not want to return there, but the genes know, and long for their origins—their home in the salty depths. But if the seas are our immediate source, the penultimate source is certainly the heavens… The spectacular truth is—and this is something that your DNA has known all along—the very atoms of your body—the iron, calcium, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and on and on—were initially forged in long-dead stars. This is why, when you stand outside under a moonless, country sky, you feel some ineffable tugging at your innards. We are star stuff. Keep looking up."

Jerry Waxman

 

Small things  make me happy because I can't have the big ones I dream about.

I can't leave this planet behind and travel to the stars, except maybe as stardust.

I can't understand everything, not without leaving this personality behind like a discarded piece of clothing. And this body, this personality has not had enough experiences to leave it behind. It's good to be human before giving ascended master status a go. It's good to scrape your knees before you learn to fly out of your body; to have mundane love break your heart before you draw conclusions about the Heart of Everything.

It's good to see the worst this world and you have to offer before you don yourself the title of messiah, avatar, empath, lightworker, earthly angel or whatever else.

Never before have I seen dust of our kind. We're dust, nothing but dust, yet the night sky speaks to my heart in the voice of the perfect lover I never had. When the moon is at its last quarter, it rises late, bathing everything in a weak yellow, almost negative light. The wind blows and shakes the branches, making me shiver with longings I can't put in words. It's four in the a.m., I am standing at the rooftop and can sense I'm not alone, but no human is awake at this hour. Four a.m. is not an hour for humans, except maybe for the sick, the mad, the broken and those too young to have responsibilities. 

It is a humbling experience to find yourself alone and outdoors in the small hours of the night. It makes you realise how insignificant you are. I can feel it during those late nights with waning moon. Other beings and entities roam the night and sneer at me, and the same rooftop I've been to hundreds of times is an alien, scary place. The stars are hesitant to lend their light and the failing moon spells sickness and death. Crawling night serpents with scraping, poisonous scales, and other, blacker things the names of which I don't know fill the skies and the shadows. My heart is a bird frantically trying to escape from my chest, and my only ally is my resolve. I know that same moon shines its leprous brilliance over swamps, and ruins, and nightmarish, desolate places forsaken by the so-called champions of light. So I kneel, and call upon the darkest aspects of being. I call upon Hecate, Hel and Kali, and the Angel of death, and ask for their blessing. Those strange, horrible landscapes are as much a part of this reality as everything else. I can't understand this world or myself without them. I can't reach comprehension unless I embrace them too. Because as above so below, as within, so without. Everything is part of myself, not just sweetness and light. And the night obliges. The heart slows down and opens. The soul drinks and is sated.

Oh, what would I give to go back to whatever dead, dark star the atoms of my being originated from. To go back home. But I can't. And so I strive to find a job, and find someone who understands, and love my cats and my friends. And make this world a better place, not because I love the light, but also the dark. I love the dark with all my heart, because the Heart encompasses everything and everyone. 

I serve the needs of the Heart, and through the Heart, all my needs are served.

PS: The soundtrack of one of my most favourite movies is as good as the movie itself. Enjoy. 

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Friendly conversation with a writer (with Thranduil's butt as a bonus)

Thranduil: Ass divine. Unlike our good ol' elven king, have one, don't BE one to your friends.

Source: http://ranlae.deviantart.com/art/mailea-kaila-556271990 

Me: "This pisses me off, you know? There is a friend of mine who has vanished for years now. And you do know how few my friends are. Every time he gets into a relationship, he drops off the face of the earth. Stops calling. Stops meeting with me. And it pisses me off when my friends do that. It makes me sad. Time passes and I may move abroad and never see him again. I am not expecting him to spend time daily or even weekly with me. But for the love of fuck, surely you can find some time once or twice a year for a fucking coffee with me?! I am not asking for the moon, I am asking for maybe two hours every few months!"

Lizbeth: "Let me quote Walter, the scientist, from the series Fringe: 'It's all because of that temptress. She tricked him with her carnal manipulations and he fell right into her vagenta!' (vagina+ agenta). Maybe his girlfriend isn't happy with him meeting his female friends, you know. Most women feel that way and they are VERY manipulative and cunning. They make sure to alienate their boyfriends from their female friends to eliminate possible competition. Men don't realise it until it's too late."

Me: *Laughs* "I don't know if he has realised we have not met each other for at least two, maybe three years now. Men are complete idiots. As soon as they find a relationship nothing else matters. They no longer have friends or other interests. There is the Holy Vagina, and then there is everything else: work, food, sleep and maybe something called hobbies, if her majesty the Vagina allows. These men find themselves alone in their fifties, married to what has become a fat, unpleasant woman, and they drink beer in front of the TV and wonder why they have no friends left. Because you ditched us years ago, you bloody morons, that's why!"

Lizbeth laughs. "You do remember what J. told you about it, don't you now?"

Me: "Yeah. J. said he has so many other, more serious problems in his life, that doesn't have any time or energy left to worry about those who never call and don't keep in touch because they developed a case of severe phone allergy doubled with Procrastinatis and Arseholery."

Lizbeth: "That's why I love that guy. He's right, you know."

Me: "Oh hell, fuck me, I know. That's why I stopped calling my friend and no longer try to reach him. He lives in a new house now, much closer to mine. If he can't be bothered to call and meet up, then to hell with him. I have other priorities too. I can't chase anyone. Let him go. Maybe someone else will replace him. It hurts, but you can't make people stay, you can't make them care or give you their time. Obviously my idea of our friendship was wildly exaggerated."

Lizbeth quotes Mark Twain: "As in 'the reports of my death have been wildly exaggerated'?"

Me: "Yeah. Something like that. How goes the review hunting, by the way?"

Lizbeth makes a face. "I've kissed so much arse in the past one month I am beginning to feel hairs growing on my poor chapped lips. You can't imagine how boring this procedure is. Some of the reviewers are rude, too!"

Me: "Well fuck them. Give them the finger if they are rude." *Raises her middle finger in solemn salutation*

Lizbeth: "You can't give them the finger, even if they are rude. Sure, I've said many 'fuck you too' to my screen whenever I receive a rude email. I don't mind a refusal. If they tell me they are busy and can't do another review, what am I going to do, kidnap them and force them to write reviews for my book? I just shrug and thank them anyway. But the rude ones, oh the rude ones are so much fun. I wish I become famous just so they regret being so unpleasant to me."

Me: "Don't worry about them. Fuck them. Your writing isn't for everyone. You know that, right?"

Lizbeth: "Nothing is for everyone. I just wish humans were less unpleasant to each other."

Me: "Isn't this what makes you write?"

Lizbeth: "Don't you go all Buddha on me now, about existence being painful and this pain being the grit that makes the pearl grow. Being polite is always an option, especially if the other person has been nothing but polite to you. Have an arsehole. Don't be one."

Me: "Yeah, fat chance of that, love. Mutation by proximity."

Lizbeth: "More like mutation by constant association with that orifice and thorough brain alienation."

Me: "I've got an 'alienation' label on my blog. Maybe I should use 'brain alienation' too."

Lizbeth: "Maybe we should stop caring about people who don't care about us in the same way."

Me: "How can you tell how much someone cares?"

Lizbeth: "Easy peasy. They check on you every now and then to make sure you are okay."

Me: "Aw man, I must delete almost my entire list of contacts if that's the case."

Lizbeth: "Don't delete them. Just stop worrying about them, stop calling them, and stop wondering why they don't call. You've got bigger fish to fry."

Me: "Yeah, my glorious self. I will be a feast." (I am Pisces with Pisces ascendant...)

Lizbeth: "Goodie. Am I invited?"

Me: "Of course. Come, eat, this is my body. But you will most likely start fancying elves and vampires and unpleasant characters afterwards."

Lizbeth: "I don't see any discernible difference. I do that already."

Me: "And here I was, wondering why we keep each other such good company..."

Lacrimosa

 

There is no changing what we are.

There is no changing what we feel. Or is there? 

I am struggling inside my mind, layers upon layers of fetters and conditioning.

My mind resides inside a physical form that places more fetters around my existence.

My body exists inside a society, a pre-existent construction that has its own rules and ideas, bringing more fetters in the equation.

My society is a country presently entrapped in a state of economical war with other countries, and I have no future to look forward to, no way to realise my dreams.

As if all the fetters inside weren’t enough, I am also trapped outside and there is no place to run to. I am stranded on a hostile planet with no escape. 

There is nothing for me here. Only the brief repose of reading a book, watching a movie, writing, talking to a friend, when time ceases to exist and that pain abates for a little while.

You tell me to keep on struggling, that better days will come, that this is not all that is, and there is hope.

Maybe there is. But right now all I see is darkness. I have struggled with all those fetters for years, and more fetters come to replace those I have removed and broken with so much effort. I feel buried under them. I cannot breathe. I keep pushing on, blind, broken, angry, furious with rage. I am blind rage and nothing more. Rage is the only thing remaining to fuel me. Sadness does not count.

There is so much blood on my hands, such a burden on my soul. This time I did not kill anyone. This lifetime I played by the rules, and gained a room with a view in prison.

I want out. I want to live. I want even the pretense of living. I want something I cannot have. I want bliss, and the brief moments I have experienced it make me even sadder for knowing what I miss. I want out of here. Out of this fucking planet. Out of this existence. Everything hurts. Every single thing I see cuts me and burns me and hurts me. I am an exposed nerve, and no matter how well I hide, if I make the mistake of walking out and looking at anything else than the trees, something appears to hurt me. From the piece of litter I see on the ground to the contemptuous glance a passerby gives to another passerby, everything hurts and overwhelms me. I am exhausted. I want to rest. I don’t understand anything anymore. I don’t know what I am doing wrong. Maybe this world isn’t for me. Maybe I am not made for this world. Maybe it was all a mistake.

I just want to rest. I want to close my eyes and sleep and never wake up again. I am so tired. So sick of struggling. So sick of fighting to gain what others take for granted. Everything is a struggle and a battle and I am so disgusted of existing just to suffer and flail and achieve nothing.

I want to do nothing. But there is so much I need to do. From mundane tasks to personal projects, there is so much I need to do. And if I open the door and step out of this life, even if something good happens I won’t be there to see it.

That’s what I tell myself and persuade her not to do anything stupid.

I don’t know for how long this will keep me here.

I don’t know how much time I have left before I break completely and don’t care anymore.

For today, it is enough. Tomorrow is another struggle.

One day at a time. One breath at a time.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

That’s my girl.

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